


Differences

by Ever_Lasting



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Lord of the Rings, M/M, battle of the five armies, the Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_Lasting/pseuds/Ever_Lasting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil was hiding. Only Bard would have figured as much. Most hid with the intention of staying hidden but of course Bard sought him out. Few had the gumption to address the Elven King without first being addressed themselves but Bard was different. It had always been different between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Differences

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt from a rather lengthy fic I had in the planning. I eventually realized I would never be able to finish it in a timely fashion, however. In this AU, Bard is heir to Dale but the kingdom was stolen away from him upon his birth by his uncle, infamously known as the Mad King. At this point in the story, Thranduil had previously been captured by the Mad King's henchmen and tortured for information pertaining to Bard's whereabouts. Eventually rescued, this fic begins a few days afterward.
> 
> If you have any questions, or need clarification, you can send them to my [Tumblr.](http://everlasting--x.tumblr.com/)

Thranduil was hiding. Only Bard would have figured as much. Bard could see how Thranduil enchanted all who met him. Regal stature, stalwart eyes like clear pools frozen by the bitter winds of winter, skin as pure as ivory, seemingly as delicate as a petal but, factually, resilient as obsidian. He was strong, strength was written upon all aspects of his being. Spare a glance and you could feel that strength, it permeated about his form. And when he looked at you, you almost felt as strong as he by pure merit of his presence. That he would look at you squarely in the eye meant something, spoke of your inner-morals. By just looking at you, one was deemed worthy. And when he spoke to you, well, the spell was cast.

But the ElvenKing was hiding. Few had the gumption to address him without first being addressed themselves but Bard was different. It had always been different between them.

Infatuation had captured his mind from the moment Bard had first encountered Thranduil, nevermind the elf’s intentions to decapitate him. As they traveled, as they fought, they grew closer and now Bard was in love. With Thranduil hiding from whatever it was that troubled him, having him missing from Bard’s side, was equivalent to losing an entire chunk of his being. He couldn’t say this was so for anyone else, but that was how Bard felt.

So he’d naturally gone after Thranduil to find him. It was a bit funny. Here Bard was, so close to grasping rule over the majority of Middle Earth, and yet , he stumbled after Thranduil like a blind wolf cub after its mother. Bard didn’t care, he had nothing to prove, not to Thranduil. It was different between them.

Bard’s search was short lived. Their stronghold for the time being was not terribly large. There was scarcely any place to hide.

Thranduil had taken a room for himself, more specifically the attic space. It was the largest in what used to be the abode of the Lord of this town. He needed his space. Bard suspected when Thranduil felt enclosed it threatened his sense of security. The attic was ideal and, perhaps most importantly, away from everyone and everything. Bard was initially resigned to leave Thranduil to his solitude, but at this point, he missed him too much. Not seeing him, he yearned for him.

The oaken stairs thudded underfoot as he ascended the staircase. He felt anxious, like he should turn back, but it was no doubt too late. Surely Thranduil had detected his approach. Bard did bring himself to pause before the single heavy wooden door in final contemplation. He realized he himself was scared to face what the ElvenKing was hiding from, whatever that may be. Should he make his love’s demons his own. His mind, unequivocally, answered yes. And so Bard gave the door a little tap of a knock.

The following gap of silence felt like eternity. Bard nearly lost his nerve before…

"You may enter."

Just to hear his voice made Bard’s heart leap in excitement.

The handle gave a sound of metal grinding against metal, resisting as he turned it. The house was old. The door too protested its opening with a groan of old hinges long since out of use. Bard heaved it open. And there was Thranduil, a sight for sore eyes.

Bard’s immediate instinct was to sweep him up in his arms. To protect an immortal as only a mortal could: with the intent to lay down one’s only life. Bard yearned to be close, to hold him, take in his scent: the sweetly blooming trees of spring. But his approach was measured, as Thranduil had his back towards Bard. Most who went into hiding did so with the intention of staying hidden.

Bard took gentle steps as if approaching an injured fawn. His intent was pure, but it was the fawn’s instinct to be weary.

Bard doubted Thranduil had ever turned around. Not as he was approaching, nor as he walked and not even now, as he neared enough to reach out and touch, did he disturb his position. Straight-backed Thranduil stood before the floor length mirror.

And his wounds were bared.

All at once the memory of how he came by rushed to the forefront of Bard’s mind. Weeks spent following a trail that offered no clues. Hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t dead. Trying to keep the silver lining in mind: that Thranduil was strong, stronger than any of them, that he would outlast any cruel machinations upon him.

And then the memory of finding him — mere inches from death. The breathes he took could barely be considered breathes, his heart-beat a mere murmur of what it were. Bard felt Thranduil’s pain as if it were his own, for it was his own in a sense. Bard’s love was wounded and his own flesh ached with the sting of the whip and the knives that had scourged Thranduil’s skin.

But the ElvenKing looked as serene as ever. Shoulders sloped in seeming composure. They moved up and down, up and down with his breathing. Then his head turned and a pale blue iris was revealed at the very edge of his gaze.

Bard had closed the distance between them, as close as he would dare. He felt the instinctive need to touch Thanduil. His mind teased him with the memory of just how soft his skin could be and how Thranduil’s lips tasted when Bard’s name slipped breathlessly between them. Bard spun himself an illusion of what he wanted this encounter to turn out like but knew Thranduil could just as easily dismiss him. And Bard would go on to continue pining after him another fortnight.

"Has there been a disturbance?", the question was asked objectively. No hint of Thranduil being glad of his visit.

No, I burn for you. Bard’s answer if he were being honest.

"….No", Bard’s answer was just as emotionless.

Thranduil turned away again. Bard missed the way the setting sun shone upon that sliver of ice.

"Then why are you here?", Thranduil asked, inflection just as unwelcoming as it had been before.

Bard did not answer for his ears, or maybe it was his heart, detected the subtle bite to Thranduil’s words. It made him want to shrink in on himself. Maybe to another, Thranduil would only sound firm or apathetic or defensive. But to Bard his tone insinuated go away. Rejection was rejection, no matter how gently put, and Bard felt the full sting of it at the bottom of his stomach.

He tried to keep in mind this was the demon talking. Thranduil had never once before denied him. Why would he start now? Try as he might to reassure himself, the question of ‘what if’ did linger. There was always something to doubt when dealing with Thranduil because the elf was just so hard to read. He did it on purpose, Bard could tell as much, but damn him for hiding his heart the way he did.

Bard was secure in his love for the ElvenKing but did not know if he was held in equal regard. Thranduil was simply so hard to read at times, what true desires lied behind his winter eyes was a mystery to any creature that dared to wonder. Bard’s heart sunk once again and he felt his posture deflate along with it. But this visit had not been entirely about that. Lovestruck as he were, yearning for his lover, Bard was genuinely concerned about a friend. So he straightened back up and pretended like Thranduil had not spoken.

In the mirror Bard’s brown eyes had searched out Thranduil’s blue ones. Their gazes locked for only a moment before Bard lowered his, still sheepish. He could see the gashes on Thranduil’s back thinly covered by a veil of blonde hair. Under ordinary circumstances, the tresses cascaded down his back , flowing between strong shoulders, but it probably caused him too much pain at this point. It saddened him truly, and gingerly with his middle finger, he swept the remaining locks away from the pale expanse of skin.

"They’re healing well.", Bard attempted to sound reassuring but was not so confident in his ability to keep his voice from wavering.

He received no answer.

"Do they bring you much pain?"

Again, only silence. A loaded silence. Bard could feel Thrandiul’s eyes upon him, though he dare not look into the mirror to meet them. They would turn him to ice; freeze him to his very core.

"You know they’re —"

"They’re ugly."

Thranduil said it as if spitting up some foul tasting thing. Pure bitter and honest self-deprecation. Bard felt it as if it had been said in insult to himself. Ugly was the farthest thing from Thranduil. The elf could not see but Bard’s dark eyes saddened, his mouth bending into a slight frown.

The wounds were merely healing. In places they were a black and scabbed over, others they were raw and red. Some had given way to new skin, delicate and pink as it were. Perhaps they would scar. Even then they would be beautiful because they graced Thranduil’s back. Ugly? Not at all.

Were he being free with his responses he would have kissed Thranduil as passionately as was humanly possible. But he realized what a delicate place his love was in. That might only make matters worse. Bard slowly raised his hands to rest gently upon those pale shoulders.

"They’re not ugly, my love.", his voice was gentle.

"They’ll be scars soon.", Thranduil sounded dead.

"And what of them? We all have scars. I’ve more than any creature could possibly count."

Thranduil made some sound — a scoff — before finally moving. He shrugged his shoulders and Bard recoiled his hands back at his sides, resigned to watch as his world seemed to shift with each step Thranduil took away from him.

Thranduil slunk over to the various bags and chests that were his possessions, and fished out a tunic. He was in pain, Bard could tell with the way he put the garment on. One arm, then the other, gingerly the neck went over his head and he held the shirt away from his skin, letting it go to settle gently against his body. Bard swallowed thickly. Knowing of this hurt, he wanted to make it all go away…if only he could.

"I think perhaps…." Thranduil spoke softly — spoke in the way one does when thinking about something sad, " It is different for you and I."

Differences. Differences between Bard in relation to Thorin, Bard in relation to Adair….Bard in relation to Thranduil. Differences between humans and Elves. Differences between who was punished and who was not. It should have been him. It should have been he who was captured, he who was tortured, he who was broken. Gladly, he would suffer this fate hundreds — thousands — of times over if only to spare Thranduil. But his love had already paid his penance.

Bard hated himself for it….for not being able to protect the one thing more precious than Middle Earth. Thranduil didn’t know, not completely, how deep the human’s feelings ran. Bard hadn’t told him, but he was so deeply in love with the creature. At times, quite frankly, Bard was embarrassed. But if he loved Thranduil this much, how did he allow such terrible things to happen to him? All these thoughts welled up inside him, leaving him hollow and helpless.

Thranduil should have given them what they wanted, the Mad King and his underlings. He should have confessed, turned Bard in. It would not have mattered, Bard’s fate, if it ensured Thranduil would be punished no further. He should have told them everything. He should have told them.

"You should have told them.", Bard’s voice cracked. Saving face was the last thing on his mind.

Bard had remained facing towards the mirror, watching in its reflect as Thranduil relocated to stare out the single mirror in the room. Bard turned around then, but didn’t near. Like some child his clasped his hands together, twiddling his fingers. Thranduil’s silence merely added to his anxiety.

Then, there was a scoff that sounded extremely similar to you fool . The elf’s head was bowed as he shook it, staring but not looking at some point beyond the glass. He turned to face Bard as well, arms crossed, face painted with something like regret.

"Do you think so little of me that you would dare suggest I betray you?", he demanded, eyes hardening by the second.

"I…" Bard paused to release a shuddering breath, " I am not worth this…Nothing…Least of all me."

Thranduil…laughed. He chuckled, deciding Bard wasn’t worthy of being looked at either and turning back towards the window.

" You should’ve brought wine with you, in the least. I need to be drunk to bare hearing such self-deprecating stupidity."

Taken merely from the way the words flew from his tongue, Thranduil might have been snarling.

"…Thranduil…I’m —"

"Don’t tell me you’re sorry!"

All the tension, frustration, anger, pain — all of it — exploded and Thranduil whirled around upon him, his blonde hair fanning out before him like the hackles rising on a feral cat. Bard flinched and Thranduil’s voice echoed off the planks of the empty space.

"Don’t apologize! Don’t tell me you would have taken my place — gladly take my place! Don’t tell me I should have done anything but my duty…"

The muscles in Thandruil’s jaws clenched visibly. He raised a single finger and pointed it at Bard. What remained of the breath Thranduil had taken left his lungs in a quivering hiss. Then ,just like that, the anger was gone. Then lowered his hand, hanging his head and heaving a sigh.

"You absolute fool….How could you not see that…that my life would be equal trade for yours. Never mind what you think — what value you place upon your soul…I love you. There is no hell I would not bare for you."

Bard had stopped breathing. Most everything had faded from focus. He was aware of nothing but the sound of his own heart. It beat furiously, harder so than if he were staring down an adversary with intent to kill him. In his stomach was a fluttering of joy and fear.

Bard was outside himself. His actions were not his own but there was no other course to take, really. He was carried forward on numb legs. In what seemed like an instant he was close to Thranduil, so close, he could feel the cool gust of his breath upon his lips. He kissed him and held his love’s whole being within his arms.

The two of them had kissed before but, in light of this one, none seemed to really count. It was glorious, holding Thranduil so tightly to himself, he fit there so perfectly. His mouth was warm and inviting and Thranduil kissed him back eagerly, wholeheartedly. In turn he felt his love’s arms slip loosely about his neck. This felt good, Thranduil felt good and Bard hoped this kiss would never end.

Daydreaming in his passion-filled stupor, Bard nearly fell when Thranduil leaned forward against him. He stumbled back on his feet and was pushed again, their embrace never breaking. Thranduil willed him back and back and back, then his legs were out from under him. He had hit the edge of the single bed in the room and fallen onto his back. Bewildered, he rather ungracefully laid there, arms splayed, surprise obvious on his face.

Thranduil, meanwhile, had the situation under total control. He had a sly smirk on his face when he leaned down over Bard. His hair cascaded about the soon-to-be king, the most beautiful drapes he had ever seen. Bard could not resist tangling a hand into the tresses, soft as silk, the strands slid easily between his fingers. Bard smiled sweetly up at Thranduil. The elf stared back with hungry eyes, fully intent on devouring this body beneath him.

"I have missed you, Bard.", the words tickled as Thranduil murmured them into Bard’s ear, " I’m sorry to have worried you as I did. I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to see me like this."

In a way, it was cute. Thranduil was baring all, removing the guard to his heart and letting Bard in. Yes, in some corner of his mind Bard was angry Thranduil had hidden to begin with, but forgiveness is easy when you can’t stay mad at a person. Bard’s smile only widened. Gently nudging Thranduil up, he moved farther onto the bed, resting back against the pillows. Thranduil followed, kneeling between Bard’s parted legs. His hands were on Bard’s chest and the bowman cupped his face lovingly between calloused hands.

"Never hide from me." Bard whispered, bringing their foreheads together, nuzzling into him, " There is no scar, no secret, that could ever soil your beauty in my heart, my love."

Thranduil pulled back to stare down into Bard’s eyes. No words were needed, love was shared between their gaze. They had an uncanny ability to communicate in a glance. One would only need to look to know what the other was thinking. It was no different now. When Thranduil leaned back in, it was to kiss Bard and ease him onto his back.

They had been gentle with one another but it was clear what feelings were felt between the two. Bard could not help the spark of desire Thranduil ignited within him and so he did not fight the tightening of the coil within his stomach.

Thranduil’s lips were not enough, he needed to taste every inch of his body, marr perfect ivory skin with his teeth. Bard was on his back again, gazing up at Thranduil who had settled upon his lap, straddling him. They had not but kissed twice and already Bard could feel the uncomfortable strain of his cock against his trousers.

Thranduil knew just how to work him. No doubt, very soon, he’d have Bard reduced to a shuddering mess. If only the others knew it took one elf to render him weak, to break him down and build him back up with that beautiful mouth of his. The way Thranduil moved his hips was viable to make him cum in his pants. Grinding slow, achingly slow, circles onto his cock, he had the smuggest grin on his face. He was well aware of the effect he had on his lover.

Bard was a patient man, saintly some might say, but not when it came to this — to him. He growled, deep and possessive, and sat up. His mouth laid waste to the creamy skin of Thranduil’s neck. Bard licked, he kissed, he bit, until he heard Thranduil gasp, whether in pain, pleasure or some mixture of the two. He wanted to hear more, to push Thranduil to the same extremes he himself would achieve.

In the relative silence there was a loud riiiiiip! Complements of Bard ripping a sizeable hole in Thranduil’s tunic.

"Bard!"

The bowman snapped out of his lust filled fixation.

"W-what…?", he asked, honestly confused.

"Honestly!?", Thranduil whined, "I would’ve taken it off had you simply asked."

"I-I apologize. I thought perhaps it might be easier what with — oof!"

Bard’s back hit the bed once more with a dull thud. Apparently Thranduil hadn’t been that bothered by the loss of the shirt. He was pinned there, the elf’s hands on his tanned chest.

"Let me return the favor.", he purred.

Thranduil kissed him — hard. He pulled a gasp from Bard’s mouth as his teeth cut into his lower lip. That sound soon turned into a growl as he too threw himself into the kiss. There was another poignant rip, his own tunic. Bard didn’t pay any mind to this one either. He was too busy trying to hold himself together with Thranduil’s mouth upon him.

He left a trail of bites that made Bard’s skin burn. He writhed beneath him but Thranduil kept him there, pushing him down into the sheets. Breathlessly, Bard moaned, Thranduil having taken a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue against the sensitive skin, then moving onto the next. He moved down and down and down Bard’s body, teasing, taking his sweet time exploring this lovely mortal before stopping.

It was only to undo the ties securing Bard’s trousers closed. The human’s hips raised eagerly, Thranduil nuzzling against his cock through the material. Then finally it was freed, Bard kicking his pants to the floor.

Thranduil chuckled. Bard looked to him inquisitively. Here Bard lay naked beneath him, Thranduil couldn’t help but take a moment to drink in his form . His blue eyes roamed freely down Bard’s tanned body. His arms, his chest, his stomach, all lean and toned. When they had first met, Bard looked very different, very boyish. Now he was a man.

"How beautiful you are." Thranduil come close to whisper this against the skin of Bard’s stomach, "So beautiful."

The coo of his voice tied Bard’s stomach in knots. The ever winding coil of his arousal threatened to come undone when Bard felt the intense heat of his lover’s mouth upon his cock. Thranduil’s name poured obscenely from his mouth.

His back arched and his eyes clenched shut as Thranduil pleasured him. The elf was attuned to every mewl, every motion, Bard made and worked him accordingly. First the tip of his tongue danced about the head, which earned him a full-bodied shudder. Then slowly he took more and more of the length into his mouth, Bard reeled. He was close, so close. But he pulled himself back from the edge.

Sitting up suddenly, Thranduil raised up as well, most likely to see if anything was wrong. Before he could speak Bard had kissed him again, dragging him back onto his lap. He finished what he had started and the torn remnants of Thranduil’s shirt found its way next to his own.

He was finally able to repay the elf for the teasing, treating him very much the same way. His rough hands traced the contours of his sides, though never his back. Even now, when he could think about little else, he was careful not to cause harm. Thranduil arched against his mouth, a hand tangling into Bard’s black hair. His sighs were the sweetest sound, Bard felt his cock throb to every one of them.

Bard wished he had the wherewithal to play with Thranduil more but he could no longer ignore his want. He pulled back to look pleadingly into Thranduil’s eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Bard swallowed thickly, suddenly bashful. This….this was new. Should he ask or allow his actions to lead? Thranduil arched one dark brow, that smirk coming back to his face. He knew.

"Here…" Thranduil whispered.

Bard held him as close as possible as he moved. He raised up and grabbed Bard’s cock, guiding it to his entrance. It occurred to the human that Thranduil had probably done this before and that he’d be asking about that later. He didn’t have the chance to harp on it, though. Thranduil eased himself onto Bard’s length. It was a struggle, earnestly, to reign himself in and wait. He felt like ripping Thranduil apart. Instead he fell back against the bed’s pillow, eyeing the elf’s body provocatively.

Thranduil bottomed out, panting by now. He took a moment to get used to the feeling of Bard’s cock inside him before slowly beginning to rock back and forth, working into a steady pace. With every motion Bard let out a little gasp, biting his lip for fear of getting too loud. A mere few layers of wood separated them and their companions.

As Thranduil got more comfortable, he went faster. Bard blissfully threw his head from side to side, driven seemingly mad with pleasure. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. He saw stars behind his closed eyelids. It felt like an eternity as Bard succumb to the pleasure, body buzzing. His eyes crept open, finally and he saw Thranduil a way he had never before.

His eyes were closed too, lashes sweeping his cheeks. His pink lips were parted slightly, breath escaping in whimpers and sighs. Thranduil was beautiful. Thranduil would never stop being beautiful.

They climaxed together, bodies glistening in the blue light of the moon. Thranduil looked like some unearthly creature, he glowed, his skin made of the very light.Yes, Bard was in love — so in love. Thranduil settled down upon him, head nestled into the crook of his neck.

For some time Bard watched him sleep before succumbing to slumber himself. He had no nightmares this night.


End file.
